What she's Always Wanted
by Aloemilk
Summary: Temperance Brennan is a woman who knows what she wants... and now she finds out how to get it. A very light-hearted fluffy oneshot on how she tries to convince Booth of doing what she wants.


This fluffy, (very) lighthearted story is based on Bren's look when she's just about to kiss Booth under the mistletoe. You've noticed, right? She doesn't look merely _willing_... She looks like she wants to eat him up.

Can anyone blame her, after all?

---

To kiss.

She's been wanting to kiss Seeley Booth for a long time now.

She's been dying to run her hands over his body for what feels like decades... but she can't.

She's sure he won't let her.

He's got that darn line after all.

That's why she didn't fight Caroline much when she was feeling puckish and bargained a Christmas with her family for a kiss with Seeley Booth. That's why she didn't let him talk to Caroline about it.

Because she had been dying to kiss him.

She had thought the kiss would release the tension, but she'd been wrong. Finally feeling his lips over hers had made her feel everything she'd always thought was an invention of romance novel writers: she's felt short of breath, weak on the knees, like there was no one else in the world but them, home.

She'd felt alive.

And all she wanted was to relive that experience, so she could understand what happened to her whenever they were close enough together, whenever someone said how nice they were together, or mistook them for a couple.

But she was sure she couldn't.

Or could she?

Yes, she could. She might have to convince him, talk to him about it until he wanted it as much as she did. And whatever the consequences, she knew a genius like her and a smart, people's person like Booth would find a roundabout. They could do anything together—even hide their relationship if needs be.

Oh, she wanted him... she didn't care for reasons or lines or whatever. It was her instinct, her desire, and she'd find a way to convince him if he put up a fight. She would probably have to convince him of this logic... or maybe just seduce him.

Or both: seduce him and when he tried to talk her out of it, show him how perfectly coherent her reasoning was. Good to know that a man turned on tended to lose use of his cortical functions, since his blood wasn't running mainly through his brain.

Oh, yeah. She could do that.

All she had to do was plan her strategy carefully. And he wouldn't stand a chance.

***

Rain was beating unmercifully on the windows. Their constant hammering on the glass was all the company he had, and he was painfully aware of that.

He was alone in his apartment, much to his dismay.

He knew what his chances were. If it weren't raining the way it was, he could go out and get a one night stand out of the willing women that gathered in pubs and clubs looking for that exact same thing: an illusion to make them feel like they weren't as lonely as they actually were.

Sadly, he was blessed with a profound understanding of human nature. He knew that wouldn't really work.

First of all, he wasn't a one night stand kind of guy. He wanted more out of his life. Second of all, that kind of sex often left people feeling hollow—sex was all about engaging, and you couldn't really engage with someone you small-talked to for a couple of hours—if—before becoming involved in a physically-exclusive kind of intercourse. Third of all, he didn't really just wanted to be with someone.

He wanted to be with Bones.

He sighed and got up to get yet another bottle of beer.

It was getting so... frustrating, these feelings for her. But what could he do? Just knock on her door and tell her _hey, Bones, you know what? I realized that all that crap about a line and stuff was bull. So, if you're willing to try, why not just be together and send all to hell?_

She'd run for the closest—scratch that. For the _furthest_ isolated island you could find on a map. Though she probably wouldn't have to search on a map. She surely knew what her best bet was if looking for those conditions, darned woman.

She simply didn't feel the same way. They had this wonderful friendship, this glorious partnership, but that was it.

And he'd take that any minute he couldn't take _her_.

Maybe if he explained to her how the best romantic relationships were founded on friendships like theirs?

A knock on the door distracted him out of his reverie.

"Booth? Are you there?" he heard her call through the door. "Open up, it's me!"

He didn't need to be told twice. He almost ran for the door and opened the locks as fast as he could, worried something had happened to her.

What was she doing at this hour, in a night like this one, here in his apartment?

"Bones?"

"Hey, Booth," she said as she walked passed him towards his living room.

He couldn't speak.

She was completely wet. From the top of her head to the tip of her shoes, she was glistening with rain. Her hair was messy with humidity, her make up just a little blurry, her skirt plastered against her legs as she walked.

And as she took her sweater off, he saw her—oh God—white t-shirt translucent, hugging every single wonderful curve of her upper body which, of course, allowed him to see the low cut bra she wore.

He swallowed.

"I really need to warm up—and yours was the one place I could think of," she commented in what she hoped was a nonchalant-yet-husky tone of voice.

He melted.

Had she just said what he thought she'd said?

"I'm sorry?" he finally squeaked.

"My car broke down half way between the lab and my apartment and there was no cab I could take—who would be crazy enough to be out on a night like this one, right? Your place was much closer than my own, so I thought I'd come and stay the night. If you don't have a problem with that?"

If he didn't have a problem with that. Figures.

He closed the door and walked a few steps towards his very sexy, very hot partner. Very wet partner. Jes's.

"Would you like something dry to change into?"

She kicked off her shoes, put her foot on the sofa while hiking her skirt up enough to allow him to see her long legs as she slowly took her stockings off. "That would be wonderful... Although..."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?" he squeaked.

She turned to look at him, running her hands through her hair as if trying to gauge how wet it was. The movement made her breasts swing a little, drawing his attention to them—just as planned, of course.

So he could see her taut nipples.

Yeah, right, it must have been the cold. But... Geez.

"Although I'm really cold and I think a shower would work better. Do you mind if I take a shower?"

"No, not at all. Of course, sorry I didn't think of that." He hadn't been thinking at all. "Let me take you—get you some things."

He walked to his bedroom, trying to ignore the growing erection in his pants.

Bones wasn't God-sent to his home this rainy night, no matter how much he wished to believe so.

He opened a drawer and looked for a comfy t-shirt to lend her. As he did so, she came by to stand next to him, looking inside the drawer herself.

"What about this one?" he asked, showing her a soft-looking, blue FBI t-shirt.

"It looks great," she said, taking it from his hands

He closed the drawer and moved to his closet, intending to get some sweatpants. He didn't notice she'd opened another drawer... the one where he kept his underwear.

"Interesting what you have here, Booth. If I wasn't so cold, I think I'd wear one of these instead. I think I'd be much more comfortable."

He turned to see how she was holding one of his boxers briefs in her hands, squinting at them as if they were evidence of some sort.

"What are you doing with my underwear, Bones?" he asked, getting close to her and taking his boxers briefs out of her hands.

"Sorry... was that inappropriate?" she said, faking confusion. She faked a Roxie, she could fake confusion.

"Yes, it was. You just don't go through people's personal clothes."

"It's not any people's... It's _your_ underwear."

His eyebrows almost matched his hairline. "Does that make any difference?"

"Of course it does." she stepped back and sat on his bed, ignoring the tortured look on his face. "We share things. We're partners," she began to explain, placing her hands a little behind her so she could lean back a bit.

"Since when being partners means you get to see my underwear? I haven't seen yours."

She smiled. It seemed that they were finally getting somewhere.

She looked down on herself, so as to make a point of her translucent t-shirt.

"Seems to me like you are seeing mine," she smiled.

"Well... But... It's..." he stammered, unable to find words—or his wit.

"You know," she said cocking her head to one side, her brows slightly furrowed, "I'm just noticing... You do seem a little flustered. I wonder why is that..."

"Flustered? Not at all—" he didn't know what to say, where to stand, how to stand—what to do, what to say. He was flustered all right.

It didn't stop him from seeing there was something going on on that pretty head of hers. He just wished he knew what that was.

"Maybe it is my underwear. Maybe you like what you see? 'Cause I wouldn't really mind if you did."

_She's trying to seduce me._

Suddenly he was sure of it. Now it seemed so obvious. She almost seemed out of character, but then again, he'd never seen her like that... the way she was looking at him, her tone of voice... words she'd never said before.

He was sure she'd rehearsed them.

In the few moments it took him to finally understand what was going on, he was filled with the happiness of realizing that if she was seducing him, it was because she wanted to be with him. He _knew_ she had to have thought things through, coming up with amazing logic to back up her actions. He _knew_ she remembered the line... and had found a way to blow it away. And he wasn't going to be ungrateful.

Not noticing the cocky smile that appeared on his face, he walked the two steps that separated them and leaned down on her, invading her personal space. Placing his hands next to hers, he enjoyed the confusion clouding her eyes signaling she didn't expect that from him.

"Yeah, maybe I do," he said while taking her hands and pulling her to stand close to him. "Don't want you to wet my bed. But," he added as he run his fingers through her hair and down her neck to her wet-t-shirt covered shoulders, "you really need to get out of those clothes."

"I..." she'd been surprised by his sudden change of mood. In any the possible scenarios she'd played on her mind he'd never acted like that. She'd have to rely on spontaneity.

"You may take the bath you wanted... or maybe we can think of a better way to warm you up."

Sh!t. He had been too direct. Definitely, not classy.

But she didn't seem to care, as the smile appearing on her radiant face indicated.

"Finally," she said. Then grabbed him from the neck and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Tongues never stopping their dueling, they fell to the bed. Intent on the first real kiss they'd shared, they forgot for a few minutes there was more to their bodies than just their mouths. They focused on the way their lips and tongues moved against the other, enjoying the other's taste with the liberating notion of not having someone else observing them.

When he finally felt the humidity reach his skin from her clothes and through his own shirt, he let his hands explore her body slowly... committing every new sensation to memory.

Finally stopping the kissing, their lips beating along the rhythm of their hearts and parting with a wet sound, he got up a little so he could place his hands on her waist. With his thumbs under her t-shirt, he lifted it over her upper body and over her head, throwing it away carelessly. Then he run the tip of his fingers down the inner side of her raised arms, awakening every nerve end on his way, over the tip of her still covered breasts, down her stomach to the waistband of her skirt.

He hooked his forefingers on it and stopped. He took the time to see the way her skin glowed with the wetness left behind by her clothes, her arms raised over her head, her tousled hair on his pillow. A soft, contented smile on her red, swollen lips.

"I thought you'd be harder to convince," she told him.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't really need that," he smiled back, half cockiness and half pure happiness. And took off her skirt.

Once it was thrown somewhere on the floor, she took him by the shoulders and laid him on the bed. She then placed open mouthed kisses on his jaw, down his neck and over every newly exposed bit of skin as she opened the buttons of his shirt. She got rid of it and ran her hands over his beautiful, toned chest before reaching his pants to get rid of those too.

"I'm glad you didn't. I prefer doing this than explaining my flawless logic to you."

"Yeah, Bones... whatever you say."

Both now only wearing their underwear, she straddled him and went down for another kiss. She started moving her hips over his, causing their arousal to grow.

Not that she thought he needed any more arousal.

In fact, when he'd finally tired of teasing her a long time later and had come into her with an impressive thrust, she'd come to the conclusion that it was a good thing there was a limit for such things. She was sure she couldn't have stood any more of that.

Afterwards they laid on the bed side to side, both spent and still high in their climaxes.

She looked at him, and he looked back.

He smiled. She smiled back.

"Thank God for entropy," he said as he got close to her once again.

"Well, actually, remember I told you entropy is a natural for—"

She couldn't finish when his lips crushed on hers again.

"Quiet now," he commanded as he began exploring her again, lighting a thousand new fires.

"OK," she breathed, allowing herself to be swallowed by the sensations.

With him doing that, entropy could be anything he wanted it to.

And she couldn't find how to care.


End file.
